


Ritual

by Aluxra



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 11:30:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8748934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aluxra/pseuds/Aluxra
Summary: Prompt: McHanji prompt where McCree finds out about a ceremony the Shimadas do to gain the dragons' favour before a battle. N.B. While I equally ship McHanzo and McGenji, I do not ship Shimadacest, so you won't find any here if that's your thing. The ship as I write it is in a V-set up with McCree, but nothing between the shimada-bros.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfic also has some underlying headcanons of mine throughout, which can be found in my Overwatch Headcanon tag [here](aluxra.tumblr.com/tagged/overwatch-headcanon)
> 
> Thank you, and enjoy xXx

There was a crash against the door, a verbal battle of angry Japanese raging inside the room; McCree barged in, and Genji and Hanzo whirled round to stare at him, one with a frustrated scowl, the other with a snarling glare. They both stood almost toe to toe, invading each other’s personal space, like they were squaring up for a fight.

‘What the hell is goin’ on?’ McCree demanded, looking between them. He shut the door quickly and approached, and broken glass crunched underfoot. He glanced down, before his gaze shifted to Hanzo, who looked away guiltily before his glare returned to Jesse, daring him to comment.

‘Okay,’ McCree said, holding his hands up in truce. ‘Okay, does someone want to start talkin’ t’me, or are we gonna have a couple dragons tearing the Watchpoint apart some time tonight?’

‘Unlikely, considering Hanzo is being so _difficult_ ,’ Genji replied, returning his hard stare to Hanzo. Hanzo met it with a vengeance.

‘I have said all I am prepared to say to you tonight. I will not repeat myself.’

‘Hanzo, _please_ ,’ Genji begged, the haughty bravado evaporating like the steam from his vents. He reached for Hanzo, a plea for truce. ‘You know it is important for such a large battle. Our connection with the dragons must remain strong, and we gain their favour for battle.’

 _‘No_ ,’ Hanzo gritted out, jerking away from Genji’s touch. He clutched at his elbows, his shoulders rising as he tensed. ‘I will not risk performing the ceremony. I _can’t_.’

‘You can still summon your dragon, though,’ Genji argued, reaching for Hanzo again. ‘It still answers your call.’

‘I said _no_!’ Hanzo snarled, taking a step back. His eyes blazed, his teeth bared as if he were about to bite Genji.

‘Genji,’ Jesse said, beckoning him back. ‘C’mon darlin’, back up there a little, let him breathe. What’s all this about a ceremony?’

‘It is a ritual performed before battle,’ Genji explained, never taking his eyes off Hanzo. ‘Every Shimada learns it in preparation for receiving the dragon. Hanzo -’

 _‘No_. I _can’t_!’

‘Hanzo, I have _forgiven_ you for what transpired between us,’ Genji tried again. ‘The dragon will too, if  _only_ you would forgive yourself.’

‘It is _not_ your place to tell me what I should and should not do! You’ve seen for yourself, the damage I have done to the dragon; I will not call on it any more than necessary only for it to tear me limb from limb!’

‘Hanzo, it won’t, I _know_ it won’t! It happened to me as well, after I became a cyborg and left Overwatch,’ Genji said.

‘What happened to _you_ was not _your_ fault,’ Hanzo said through gritted teeth, glaring at the floor. ‘The dragon can forgive the pain it endured for a transgression _against_ you, not carried out _by_ you! Everything that has happened… it is _my_ doing, I am to blame, and the dragon knows!’

‘Hanzo-’

 _‘No_! I have had enough of this foolishness! I will call upon the dragon if need be but I will not put myself at it’s mercy!’

‘Now _excuse_ me, I need some air,’ he snapped, barging past McCree on his way to the door.

‘Hanzo, darlin’--’

‘Let him go, Jesse,’ Genji warned, as Hanzo jerked away from McCree’s reaching hand and threw open the door, slamming it behind him and leaving them in silence.

McCree scratched the back of his head, huffing out a breath and turning to Genji. ‘So, you wanna talk to me?’

Genji sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He sagged onto the bed, leaning his elbows on his thighs and holding his head in his hands.

‘I don’t know what else to do,’ he said. ‘I don’t know what to say to him.’

‘Well, maybe pushing him to do something he doesn’t want to do ain’t the best way to go about it,’ McCree replied, sitting down next to him and resting his hand on Genji’s back, rubbing it in soothing circles. ‘Now, what’s all this about a ceremony, or ritual, or whatever it is - neither of you have mentioned it before?’

‘It’s not something that needs to be done all the time,’ Genji explained, dropping his hands from his face, staring across the room at nothing in particular. ‘I just feel like tomorrow is going to be different, somehow; I don’t want to walk into a mission feeling this way, without doing everything I can to prepare for it.’

‘And this… ritual, how does it work?’

‘It allows us to better communicate with the dragon, by taking our consciousness to their plane of existence, rather than us calling them into ours.’

McCree stared at him in silence, his brow furrowed in confusion. ‘You actually _talk_ to the dragons?’

‘Jesse, what do you think the dragons _are_?’ Genji asked, cocking his head and looking up at McCree out the corner of his eye.

‘Honestly, I haven’t given it much thought,’ McCree replied truthfully, scratching his head. ‘All I know is they’re big, they’re mean and they make a meal outta anything in their way, and I like to think I have a healthy appreciation for not fucking with things that can chew me up and spit me out.’

‘Jesse, you have been picking fights with larger guys than you since I first met you,’ Genji said, deadpan.

‘Yeah.’ McCree grinned, unabashedly, and Genji chuckled under his breath. He shook his head, sighing, and rubbed his forehead with his fingertips.

‘You know, there’s a family legend, about the dragons.’

‘The one from that tale you told me - “The Two Dragon Brothers”?’

‘Yes. There’s a second part to the tale.’

 

_As the two dragon brothers walked the earth as humans, seeking to right the wrongs they had committed, their absence was noticed in the spirit world, not only by their brethren, but by others who would seek to do great harm to this world. As time past, many grew bold, and crossed over into our world seeking destruction._

_The dragon brothers saw the chaos that swept the land, and with no choice left, they shed their human skin for scales and claws once again, waging war against the dark spirits who dared endanger the world they tried to rebuild. The battle was long and arduous, each suffering damaging injuries, until, eventually, the dragon brothers emerged victorious._

_But it was a hollow victory, for as long as the dragons remained on earth, they realised they risked fighting among themselves once again, or others would see their strength as a challenge, an invitation to wreak discord and havoc upon the unsuspecting people of the mortal world. Nor could they remain as human men, for the longer they wore their mortal skin, so indeed they became mortal, who would age, and die, their souls lost to the universe. Unwilling to leave the world unprotected, the two dragon brothers called upon their sons and offered them a fragment of their souls to carry with them until their dying day, and the Dragon of the North Wind said to them:_

_“While we cannot remain in this world, you may still carry a part of us within you, and with the strength of your spirit, call to us across the divide, to channel our power through you should the need arise.”_

_“But be warned,’ the Dragon of the South Wind said, ‘for though our power will aid you, so it comes with a cost; only the worthy can carry the weight of the dragon, and must not falter, for anything that happens to the spirit of the man, shall too, happen to the dragon. And if the soul we have merged with be found unworthy, shall suffer a most terrible fate.’_

_The sons of the dragons knelt before them, understanding the risk, and accepted the fragment of the dragon souls to join with their own. So the dragon brothers left this world, and returned to their own, closing the gate between the worlds behind them. However, they were never truly gone, for when their power was needed to shape and change the world, they were called upon once again across the great divide, channelled through the spirits of the select few who had been found worthy among their descendants._

 

McCree remained silent after Genji had finished his tale, taking in the information. Genji waited beside him patiently, watching him.

‘So, let me get this straight,’ McCree finally said. ‘All the Shimada are descended from the dragons?’

‘That’s how the legend goes, yes.’ Genji raised his eyebrows, shrugging.

‘And you’re a vessel for one of them?’

‘Both Hanzo and I, yes,’ Genji clarified. ‘All Shimada who complete the rite of the dragon and are found worthy become a vessel; we act as a conduit between the spirit world and this world, channelling the dragons.’

‘Because you carry a piece of their soul with your own,’ McCree finished.

‘We certainly carry something of them,’ Genji said. ‘Why do you think Hanzo is always so warm? Why he feels like a furnace no matter the weather?’

‘I never really gave much thought to it,' McCree said. 'Damn grateful though, keeps ya warm at night.'

‘Dragons,’ Genji said. ‘Their power burns through our veins, a reminder that the dragon sleeps just beneath our skin. I used to burn, but the cybernetics…’

He trailed off, shaking his head.

‘Regardless of how much of the tales are true, what is undeniable is that we _can_ call upon the dragons to use their power,’ he said, shrugging. ‘If our need for their strength is truly great, we can perform a ritual for us to communicate with them in the spirit world instead of drawing them into ours.’

‘So, what’s stopping Hanzo? Why did he say he can’t; he said he had damaged it, or hurt it? How can you hurt your soul?’ McCree asked.

‘By killing your own brother,’ Genji said, though there was no malice in his words. ‘I don’t know  _why_ , but when the dragons manifest, they seem to manifest as representations of our own spirit, or soul, if you want to call it that.’

He sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. 'I forgave him. I forgave even as we fought... even when he brought down the killing blow. I could not hate him for it, not when I knew in my heart that it was not his choice that we met that night the way we did. He is convinced the betrayal is his and his alone, that he alone is to blame for all that happened between us these last ten years, and the years before. But I know it is not, I know it was the Clan who was behind it, it was the Clan Elders who poisoned him, who hurt him, the Clan Elders hurt my brother, _they_ are the ones who--’

‘Genji, you’re gettin’ mad there,’ McCree warned, squeezing Genji’s shoulder. ‘Breathe, Gen, they ain’t here, they can’t hurt you or Hanzo.’

‘But they did,’ Genji said, inhaling deeply and letting his shoulders sag. He clasped his hands together, pressing them between his knees. ‘They still are; maybe not directly, but I can see it in Hanzo, the things he says, the way he acts. He is punishing himself for what _they_ did, for the pain _they_ caused. His soul is torn in two, unable to reconcile the Shimada he thinks he _should_ be and the brother he thinks he has failed to be. He cannot win against himself, for whichever he tries to be - the Shimada, or just my brother -  he feels he’s betraying the other. Two dragons, where there should only be one.’

‘I was the same, after… after everything,’ he continued, looking at the floor. ‘When I left Overwatch, when I was alone long enough to get caught up in my own thoughts, I… I did not do very well, as you can guess. I could not stand the way I looked, what I had become. I felt like a distant memory of myself, or a fading dream that I tried so desperately to hold on to. I tore myself apart, and my dragon suffered, until I met Zenyatta and found peace once again. The first time I summoned my dragon afterwards and saw it whole, I undertook the ritual the same night, seeking them out in the spirit world and begging their forgiveness for the pain they had suffered because of me.’

‘I’m guessing they did?’

‘Yes. They feel what we feel; our pain, our sadness, our anger,’ Genji said. ‘I _know_ they feel how he is hurting, I _know_ they would forgive him, if he would _only_ forgive himself; but he refuses, thinking that if he confronts the dragon, they will kill him.’

‘I can understand where he's coming from, then. Gen, I know this ain’t what you want to hear, but that sounds like a pretty big ask of him, right now,’ McCree said. ‘It hasn’t been that long since he found out you were alive, even less time that I started a relationship with him. He’s obviously still working through this: he needs time.’

‘I know,’ Genji replied, burying his face in his hands. ‘I know, I just… I just…’

‘Hey, hey, c’mon,’ McCree soothed, wrapping his arm around Genji and pulling him in close. ‘It’s alright, darlin’, come on, now. It’s okay.’

Genji leaned into McCree, dragging his hands through his hair. He stayed pressed close to McCree for several long minutes, listening to his heartbeat through his shirt, the rise and fall of his chest steady against his skin.

‘So, what is the ritual?’ McCree asked, rubbing his hand down Genji’s arm and pressing a kiss to his temple comfortingly. ‘Can I see, or is it a clan secret?’

‘It’s not exactly a secret,’ Genji replied, dropping his hands from his hair and wrapping them around McCree’s waist, ‘you may watch, though I fear it might be rather boring for you.’

‘Hey, don’t you worry about me, I’m always here for moral support,’ McCree said, clapping Genji on the shoulder and grinning. ‘Let’s go talk to a dragon.’

* * *

‘So, this doesn’t look too bad,’ McCree said, sitting cross legged on the bed after Genji had cleared a space for himself on the floor and McCree had cleared up the broken glass. The way he had described the ritual seemed simple enough: face East, towards Japan, burn incense, and meditate. In front of Genji was his ōdachi _Ryu-Ichimonji,_ and his accompanying wakizashi katana, as well as a tea set on a tray, which he had carefully prepared using a clay teapot and cup and loose, sweet smelling tea leaves.

 _'_ What exactly were you expecting?’ Genji asked, a smile in his voice as he sipped the tea, sitting cross legged with his back to McCree.

‘Not sure, to be honest,’ McCree replied, chewing on the end of his cigarillo, resting his chin on his hands. ‘I wasn't expecting the tea.'

'I like tea, and it helps me meditate,' Genji replied. McCree held his hands up in truce, smiling.

'I just thought maybe there’d be, I don’t know, something more extreme, since you're talking to a dragon.’

Genji hummed thoughtfully. ‘The rite of the dragon would be more along the lines of what you’re thinking, if you were imagining something more extreme.’

‘Well, shit, now I’m curious,’ McCree replied.

‘Perhaps I will tell you, sometime, or maybe Hanzo should; he is the youngest ever to complete the rite,’ Genji said.

‘Is there really a lot to it?’

‘Depends on what you mean by “a lot”,’ Genji replied. ‘There’s a reason it is extremely rare for even a few to complete it before they are twenty-five, at _least_.’

'How many have succeeded before they're twenty five?'

'Two. Three, if the legends surrounding one of our ancestors are true.'

They fell into silence when Genji didn’t elaborate, and McCree didn’t push the subject. Several minutes passed before McCree spoke up again.

‘So, how long does it usually take to find a dragon and talk to it?’ McCree asked.

‘It depends,’ Genji said, draining the last of the tea. The incense permeated the air in the room, tickling McCree’s nose and making his head throb with the savoury, woody scent.

‘Sometimes it is difficult to find the dragon,’ Genji explained, his voice quiet and airy as his breathing began to slow, ‘sometimes they do not want to be found. Other times, they want you to find them.’

‘I don’t know which one sounds worse,’ McCree muttered.

He received no response, Genji slipping into his meditative trance. He exhaled a long slow breath as he settled back against the wall, chewing his cigarillo and watching Genji meditate, listening carefully to his breathing. He didn’t know what to expect, with talk of the spirit world and speaking directly to dragons, but he had an odd inkling in the back of his mind that made him not want to get distracted.

 

After all, it was always the unexpected that knocked you down.

 

Neither of them had moved from where they sat by the time the horizon swallowed the sun and painted the room in deepening shades of lilac to blackberry, shadows unfolding from the corners of the room and stretching their long, lanky tendrils across the walls and floor. The incense still smouldered, more potent than anything McCree had smoked, stuffing his head with cotton wool and sending it swimming along in a thick, smoky haze. The tang of tobacco on his tongue mixed with the light coils of incense, and he had set his cigarillo on the bedside table, stealing a pillow from the headboard and stretching out on the bed with his head at the foot of it, wrapping his arms around the pillow and half burying his face in it to ease the headache between his temples.

From here, his head was level with Genji’s, and he could still hear his breathing, watching the rhythmic, tiny rise and fall of his shoulders with every slow, quiet breath he took.

He wouldn’t say he was nervous, but the longer Genji stayed unmoving from where he sat on the bedroom floor, the more antsy he became. Hanzo hadn’t returned to their shared room, either, since he had stormed out, and McCree wondered if he would end up sleeping in his old room that night.

He wrinkled his nose; he didn’t want to head out for a nine hour long flight and a mission of undetermined length in the morning without having a night sleeping beside his two partners. He huffed a breath, rubbing his eyes when a flicker of movement caught his attention, and he pulled his head up from the pillow.

The room was quiet around him in the dim light, Genji’s cybernetics casting a soft green glow in the encroaching darkness.

McCree stayed still, barely breathing as his eyes slowly roved around the room, trying to pick out what he had seen, when Genji’s cybernetics lit up again, and McCree’s gaze snapped back to him.

The green glow flared, making him squint, and he realised it came from _underneath_ Genji’s armour, the light escaping from the edges where the armoured panels met the dark mesh fibres.

McCree bolted upright, staring unblinking as the light swelled and shifted under Genji’s armour, swallowing the blue-purple shadows in hues of golden green till the room was bathed in the warm, pale light as it flared out from Genji’s body. He watched, enraptured, his eyes watering from the growing supernova burning before him, Genji held within the heart of it.

The golden green light blazed, expanding and contracting, the pulse seeming to sync with the roar of his heartbeat in his ears. McCree swallowed around his dry throat, frozen where he sat, as two large, iridescent, three-toed claws curled up from under the armour plating on Genji’s back, snaking up to his shoulders. The tips of the long, curving talons scraped against Genji’s armour with no sound or mark left in their wake, clamping his shoulders tightly in their grip. Then came the neck, thick as a tree trunk and rippling with cords of muscle, scales armouring its scarred skin. It reared up towards the ceiling, stretching its long neck and raising a great, heavy head over Genji’s body.

McCree stared at it, wide eyed and slack jawed, his mouth and throat sandpaper dry. He pushed his hair from his eyes, the heel of his palm pressed firm against his forehead in disbelief.

‘Holy Mary --’ he slammed his free hand over his mouth, his breath freezing in his lungs as a rumbling growl filled the room, and the dragon turned its great head towards him. Long, gnarled horns grazed the ceiling, anchored in a broad, heavy brow; a flowing, shaggy mane haloed its wide face, both wizened and ageless, with long, coiling tendrils of a moustache above its parted lips, displaying rows and rows of curved teeth. A thick, heavy beard lined the length of its powerful jaw, and it’s large, bright round eyes were milky white, as it were blind, with stringy lines of ice blue and green and gold threaded through the pale iris wreathing the pinpoint pupil at the centre.

It levelled its gaze at McCree, and in that moment, he was certain beyond a doubt that the dragon was anything but blind.

McCree hardly dared to blink, staring into the eyes of the dragon. Slowly, he pulled his hands away from his face, raising them palms forward at shoulder level in surrender, silently convincing the dragon he was not a threat. The dragon huffed a breath, a great, heavy exhale that ruffled McCree’s hair, a blast of heat hitting his face; in the back of his mind somewhere, he had a thought that that shouldn’t be possible.

The dragon didn’t let him think too long on it, turning back to Genji and staring down at him in his serene, oblivious meditation. The dragon opened its jaws wide, and McCree lunged forward in fear as it fell on Genji, folding in on itself as it consumed him in the burning golden green light, growing brighter till McCree had to squeeze his eyes shut against the glare; he could still see it behind his eyelids as fireworks before everything went black, a stillness returning to the air around him.

He opened his eyes, his vision black until his eyes adjusted to the dim light of dusk once again. He blinked, looking around the room, the scent of incense still thick in his nose. All was still and undisturbed: Genji remained sitting where he had been all evening, breathing slow and serene, as if nothing had happened.

McCree sat up, slumping back against the wall and dragged a shaking hand through his hair. He itched for a cigarillo, or a bourbon, or both, his mind racing as the headache returned while he sat staring at Genji, waiting for him to come out of his meditative trance.

 

He didn’t have to wait long, the change in Genji’s breathing informing him of the end of Genji’s meditation.

Genji stretched, groaning under his breath as his shoulders popped. He stretched his arms behind his back, then pressed his hands against the small of his back and curved his spine, the vertebrae clicking synchronistically down the length of his back. He sighed happily, twisting one way then the other to loosen the joints he still had under the cybernetics, and looked up at McCree sitting on the bed with a smile.

‘Hello, again. You weren’t too bored, were you?’ he asked, looking out the window at the evening sky. ‘Wow, how long was I out for?’

‘Maybe two, three hours,’ McCree answered, rubbing his hand down his face. Genji paused, his gaze turning to McCree with a worried frown.

‘Jesse? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,’ he said, standing in one fluid motion and approaching the bed.

 _‘Hoo-boy_ , don’t think you’re too far off there, Gen,’ he said. He huffed a breath, blowing out a vocal _phew._ ‘So, that’s how you talk to a dragon, huh?’

‘Yes?’ Genji replied after a pause. ‘Jesse, are you okay?’

‘Finer than a frog’s hair,’ he said, blowing a lock of hair off his forehead. He slid towards the edge, planting his feet on the ground and letting his arms hang loose between his legs. He looked up at Genji, who still looked at him in concern. He smiled, trying to ease the tension. ‘You get good news from your dragon buddy?’

‘Yes, I have gained my dragon’s favour; the mission will be short lived and successful,’ Genji said, relaxing. ‘And… I asked for the strength to protect Hanzo, should he need it.’

‘Hey,’ McCree said, reaching for Genji’s hand and interlacing their fingers. ‘Between the two of us, nothing’s gonna happen to the grumpy lone wolf.’

Genji smiled slightly, stroking his fingers through McCree’s hair and tucked a few strands behind his ear. He leaned back, staring down at McCree. ‘Are you… sure you’re alright?’

He shrugged, smiling. ‘Let’s just say I am damn glad you’re on our side.’

‘Of course,’ Genji said, confused. He chuckled, wrapping his arms around McCree’s shoulders. McCree returned the embrace, burying his face into Genji’s chest; closing his eyes, he could almost feel a burning heat radiating from under the cybernetic armour.

* * *

Hanzo returned to their shared bedroom some time later, after they had settled down to sleep for the night, sneaking in on light footsteps and hushed movements. If he had wanted to avoid being caught, sharing a room with two of the lightest sleepers in the entire compound would not bring him success. He had returned his weapons to their corner and stripped off his _Gi_ when McCree rolled over, reaching out and resting a hand on his back.

Hanzo tensed, glancing over his shoulder; the moonlight spilling in the window highlighted the silver grey of his hair, damp likely from the showers in the training arenas, and hanging loose around his shoulders.

‘Hey,’ McCree whispered, rubbing his hand in soothing circles. ‘You okay, darlin’?’

‘I am fine,’ Hanzo replied, turning away and proceeding to strip. He paused, sighing. ‘I am sorry about the glass, earlier.’

‘Could’ve been worse, don’t worry about it.’

‘Yes, it could’ve been.’

‘Hey, come on,’ McCree murmured, pulling himself up on one elbow and wiping his eyes clear of sleep. ‘You didn’t throw it _at_ anyone, no harm done.’

‘Still, I should have been in better control of myself,’ he replied. He pushed the covers back and settled under them, shuffling until he was comfortable, lying on his back with his arms folded across his chest. He stared up at the ceiling, avoiding McCree’s eye. ‘Good night, McCree.’

‘There’s a difference between being in control and bottling things up,’ McCree said, lying back down next to him.

‘I do not want to talk about it,’ Hanzo said firmly. McCree said nothing. He didn’t know _what_ to say. He simply reached out, resting his hand on Hanzo’s shoulder, hesitant that the intimacy of his hand on Hanzo’s chest or stomach would crowd him, and make him withdraw further.

‘Did Genji perform the ritual?’ Hanzo asked after several moments of silence, comfortable with McCree’s touch.

‘I did,’ Genji said from the other side of McCree. He stayed facing the wall, away from McCree and Hanzo, speaking to it. ‘I gained the dragon’s favour; all will be well in the forthcoming week.’

‘Hmm,’ Hanzo hummed. Silence fell, and McCree looked between the two of them, the tension palpable in the air. He exhaled a breath, scratched his nose.

‘You know --’

‘I am glad the dragon received you,’ Hanzo said suddenly, his gaze remaining focused on the ceiling. On McCree’s other side, Genji shifted under the blanket, slowly rolling over to face them, waiting.

'They would never ignore you,’ Hanzo continued.

‘The dragons will do as they see fit, even if their reasons aren’t clear to us,’ Genji replied softly. ‘I am sorry I tried to force your hand, earlier.’

‘Hmm,’ Hanzo hummed again, after a pause. He shifted, swallowing. His gaze flicked towards McCree and Genji before it returned to the ceiling. ‘I am sorry, too.’

‘It’s okay. I know, Hanzo,’ Genji said quietly. He slid closer to McCree under the blankets and wrapped his arms around him. He reached his free arm out to rest his hand on Hanzo’s shoulder, next to McCree’s hand. ‘I have already forgiven you, brother.’

‘You shouldn’t,’ Hanzo whispered back. ‘Foolish little brother.’

‘Perhaps, but, much like the dragons, I shall always do as I see what is right,’ Genji replied after a moment. ‘Though I would like to think my reasons are clearer: you are my brother, and my friend, and I love you dearly.’

Hanzo exhaled a heavy breath, squeezing his eyes shut and rubbing a hand over his face. He pinched the bridge of his nose, opened his mouth to say something before closing it, opened it again. His breath hitched, and he cleared his throat, pushing himself up and swinging his legs off the bed, as if to leave.

McCree moved quickly, following him up and jolting Genji from his place at his back.

‘You know, I was thinking how handy it’d be to have a few more dragons around,’ he said, pulling his knees up and resting his arms across them. Hanzo paused, looking over his shoulder at McCree in confusion; Genji pushed himself up onto one elbow, his gaze flicking between McCree and Hanzo. McCree shrugged. ‘I’m just saying, I wouldn’t say no to having my own dragon as back up.’

‘Only a Shimada can control the dragons,’ Hanzo said automatically, rubbing a hand over his face.

‘Yeah, I know, I know,’ McCree said. ‘But  I mean, the two dragon brothers aren’t the _only_ dragons around, right? What’s to say other dragons didn’t come along and settle down with a human and have a few strong, handsome, dragon worthy kids?’

‘I assume you are speaking of your own lineage, of course,’ Hanzo drawled, and Genji snorted with laughter behind his hand.

‘Well, that’s awful kind of you to say so, sweetheart,’ McCree said, grinning. ‘I'd be a rather handsome dragon, if I do say so mysel'.’

Genji laughed again, and Hanzo looked away quickly, unable to hide the smile tugging at his lips fast enough. He huffed a breath, and pulled himself back up onto the bed after a moment of hesitation, and slid under the covers, rolling over to face McCree.

‘Foolish, handsome cowboy.’

‘Hey now, don't tell me that's a smile. I'll start thinking you might be considering it,’ McCree said, laying down on his back and manoeuvring his arms around both their shoulders. Genji rolled into the embrace, tucking himself under McCree’s arm and resting his head on McCree’s shoulder. Hanzo hesitantly followed his example after some gentle encouragement from McCree, curling up on his side and resting his head on McCree’s chest. Genji reached for Hanzo’s hand, holding it tight, and Hanzo squeezed back.

‘Foolish cowboy,’ Hanzo repeated sleepily, his breath tickling McCree's bare skin.

‘Love you, too,’ McCree said, hugging them both tight. 'You okay, now?'

'Hmm,' Hanzo hummed, and McCree pressed a kiss first to the crown of Hanzo’s head, then the same to Genji as the three of them lay together in the dark, slowly coaxed to sleep by each other’s warmth.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N. I am about 80% sure I read somewhere that Genji's longer sword he holds on his back is an ōdachi, and that they are usually paired with wakizashi katana, but I can no longer find the source for it.
> 
> I appreciate any feedback, especially if there are any issues that should be addressed.


End file.
